Matthew's Mysterious Diary
by Silvermist Nightray
Summary: Matthew Williams was the shy kid at the back of class, unnoticed by most people and picked on by others. He wasn't angry with his life, he wasn't satisfied with it either. He just felt like his life was missing something. And on his 16th birthday, the thing that his life lacked came in the form of an enchanted journal. (Rated M for a bit of swearing and other... Stuff...))


**FULL Summary:** Matthew Williams was the shy kid at the back of class, unnoticed by most people and picked on by others. He wasn't angry with his life, he wasn't satisfied with it either. He just felt like his life was missing something. And on his 16th birthday, the thing that his life lacked came in the form of an enchanted journal. (Each chapter will focus on a different pairing, all the while building the relationship of the main pairing USCan. Everything is written in Matthew's POV as he discovers the extent of the power of the journal and the many secrets of his fellow students. Pairings with stories planned so far are FrUK, SpaMano, PruAus, GerIta, and LietPo. I WILL BE TAKING REQUESTS ON THIS FIC, THE FATE OF YOUR PAIRING RESTS IN YOUR HANDS.)

**Warning:** Highscool AU, human names used, swearing and mature languge, yaoi, BOYxBOY, yuri, GIRLxGIRL, hetero pairings mentioned (no hate, please), implied sexual assault on one of the characters, general OOCness and possible douchebaggery, READ AT YOUR OWN RISK

**Disclaimer: **We all know I don't own Hetalia, let's all agree on that. It's owned by the amazing Hidekaz Himaruya and we all love him for it. 

* * *

**_Tick tock. Tick tock. Kring._**

Matthew Williams stirred in his sleep, one drowsy hand reaching out of the comfort of its blanket to haphazardly grope around the bedside table for the ringing alarm clock. With great skill, he tapped the little annoying beeping thing off and threw his heavy blanket off. Yawning, he searched the table for his glasses and carefully putting them on. Careful to avoid his sleeping pet Alaskan husky, he trudged to the bathroom.

The moment he turned the faucet on, his mother was automatically alerted of his presence. "Matthew, are you awake?" Madeline Williams called from the stairs, "I've made breakfast already, _mon cher_. Come eat after you take a bath."

"_Oui Maman_!" Matthew called back, wiping the last traces of sleep off his eyes. He looked at his pale reflection on the mirror, traced a hand through his wavy blonde hair. It was longer than he last remembered. This must be because it's his birthday today.

"It's just like any other normal day, Matthew." He told himself, forcing a little smile. "You can get through this, just like any other day."

After a quick and rather reflective shower, Matthew threw on his favorite red hoodie and a pair of faded Levis before marching down the stairs. Madeline had been waiting for him in the kitchen, a neatly wrapped box placed on her lap. Matthew looked at the stack of pancakes and realized they had a little candle on top of them. Well, at least someone remembered it was his birthday.

"_Bon anniversaire, mon petite._.." Madeline greeted, smiling her brightest of smiles.

Matthew blushed, hiding his face in his hoodie. "_M-Merci, Maman_..." he squeaked.

Madeline took a deep breath, as if preparing for another long speech about Matthew being "the bravest boy I've ever known" or how she was "sorry for not giving him the privilege of having a father" and all the things that made him her "special boy". The young Canadian sighed, waiting to hear what his unexpectedly talkative mother had to say.

"Matthew, darling, do you remember when you were four?" she began, looking past Matthew at the window. "Well, that time, you asked me about your _Papa_..."

"_Maman_, you don't really need to-"

Madeline looked into his eyes, cutting him off. "Let me finish, _cher_. I practiced this."

Matthew giggled, picking at his pancakes so his mother would continue.

"Where was I? Uhm..." she paused, "That's right, when you were four you began to ask where your Papa was... Of course, I told the truth. I'm not a very good liar, you know."

Matthew nodded, blowing out the candle and pulling it out.

"Papa was a Frenchman who stumbled into your bakery in Canada, _oui_?" he replied, "You keep retelling me the story of the two of you falling in love and of him promising to marry you then running back to France the day before the wedding leaving you alone at the altar. I remember the story, _Maman_, you don't really have to hurt yourself with this."

"Aha, I knew you would start interrupting me again!" Madeline teased. "Sadly, Matthew, we're not going that route today."

To Matthew's utter surprise, she handed her the box that was on her lap and gestured for him to open it. He did so, slowly pulling on the crisp white ribbon that bound the violet wrapper around it. Inside the box, he found a beautiful journal bound in leather and sealed with a lock and key.

"This was your _Papa_'s journal..." Madeline continued in a solemn tone. Then, giggling, she added: "He always said it was enchanted, that it's magic was what brought him to me. The night before he left, he gave it to me. He told me to give it to you the moment you turned sixteen..."

Matthew looked at the journal, running his finger over its spine. The lock was gold, the matching key dangling on a silver chain wrapped around the journal. It looked almost brand new, as if the Frenchman didn't even use it. "T-This was his..." he whispered, "H-Have you read it yet, _Maman_?"

Madeline shook her head. "Non. I would never do that..." she smiled, "It was meant for your eyes, _mon garcon_, not mine..."

Matthew took the older woman's petite hand, squeezing it tightly. "_Merci, Maman_..." he smiled, feeling a tear escape his eyes and fogging his glasses. "I'll keep this close, I promise."

Madeline winked. "I'm sure you will. Now get going, you'll be late for school!" 

* * *

The hallways of Hetalia International Highschool were cramped with students, chatting and laughing the morning away with loud voices. The usual groups were huddled together; Matthew's French cousin Francis Bonnefoy was leaning on Gilbert Beilschmidt's locker with Antonio Fernandez Carriedo watching as the Prussian annoyed the hell out of the school band's resident pianist, the Canadian's close friend Sesel Creole in her own little group of girls taking about the latest fashion trends, the school football superstar Alfred F. Jones going on and on and on about his latest win as his British cousin yelled at him to "get down from that bloody bench or I'll push you off".

Matthew would secretly listen in on them sometimes, expertly maneuvering through the crowd to get to his locker. He was practically invisible, of course no one would notice him glancing and mentally giving insults. Luckily for him, his locker was the last one in that hallway with hardly any people close to it. Plus, his lockermates were super friendly Tino Vainamoinen and the shy Toris Lorinaitis, they didn't bother him as much as some people.

"_Huomenta_, Matthew!" Tino greeted, almost skipping towards his locker.

"_Bonjour_ to you too, Tino." he greeted back, moving over so the Finn could open his locker.

"Did you study for Ms. Celts test today?" the Finn asked casually, stuffing in a rather large Chemistry book into the small locker. "She's a really nice teacher and I like her a whole lot but I wish she didn't give tests every other day, though."

Matthew laughed, pulling out his Biology book and putting it into the locker. "I didn't study, eh. But I did read the notes she gave us. I didn't know there were so many complexities in Shakespeare's Hamlet."

Tino nodded, crinkling up his nose. "I was too tired to even think straight. Isä brought me to the shooting range yesterday and once I held that gun, _pam_, I'm in my own world. You should really try shooting sometimes, ystäväni."

Matthew quickly shook his head, still terrified of the image of the cute and tiny Tino positioned behind a rifle. "I-I think I'll pass, eh. I don't really have the eyesight for that stuff."

Tino shrugged. "_Tee kuten haluat_" he said as he walked away. 

* * *

The Canadian took in a deep breath. It was so far so good, none of the other students had noticed and made fun of him yet. Maybe it was because he had been talking to Tino and they were afraid of the gun-wielding Finn that those others didn't bully him. Jamming his English notes into his messenger bag, he grabbed his new journal and walked to his homeroom class.

Matthew walked into the room unnoticed, slipping into his favorite seat farthest from the blackboard and the rest of class. He simply watched as different students filed into the room. The Scholars - students from different nations attending the school as hand-picked representatives - always wore the same blue uniform he also wore. The Regulars - students who got into the school due to parental influence - wore red. Neither of them took notice of the quite Canadian sitting at the back row.

He sighed, already used to the lonesome atmosphere. He pulled out the journal from his messenger bag and opened it. There was nothing written on it, despite being his father's personal journal. He was surprise to see it actually had pages torn, as if his father didn't want him to read them. He didn't mind, though. He never wanted to know his father in the first place.

Clicking the pen, he wrote down a simple name: Alfred F. Jones.

The journal suddenly fizzed, surprising Matthew as letters began popping out of the pages. They formed into words, then phrases, then sentences and paragraphs. His hand was shaking, his amethyst eyes wide with confusion. He looked around if anybody saw what anything, but they went on with their daily lives. As the last letter attached itself to the last word, Matthew propped the pen beside the journal and began to read.

_Dear diary,_

_Sup, bro! Okay, so here I am talking about my the football team's latest victory against that other boring school and guess what, that cute blondie from my class actually looked up this time! Arthur was being all "British gentleman who wants serenity" blah blah blah again, but that didn't ruin my day. Ivan was staring at me again and his psychopath of a little sister kept hissing, but that's all cool. All I'm saying is, the guy with the curly blonde hair and those really pretty amethyst eyes looked up at me today. And oh, he wore his hoodie again. He usually just disappears into the crowd and shit, like the invisible man or something. But fuck, I actually saw him today and he noticed this hunk of American Heroism! Damn, he was prettier than I thought he was. No homo, though. Okay, maybe a little homo? I don't know, half-homo? Fuck, I don't even understand this anymore._

The Canadian blinked a couple of times, wondering if what he was reading was actually true. It couldn't be, right? Maybe he just didn't get enough sleep, or maybe it was all just a trick of the light, maybe his imagination was just working overtime.

Alfred couldn't have thought he was pretty. He watched (somewhat stalked) the American long enough to know the guy preferred pretty blonde girls in the cheerleading squad, like his current girlfriend Mei Lin. He blushed, a little voice in his mind encouraging him to believe everything was true and what he had just witnessed was magic.

"This really isn't my thing, eh."

Confused, he closed the journal and roughly shoved it into his bag. He would be experimenting a little more on it later on, when the red on his face would die down.

* * *

**K/N: **Okay, so I've been working on this for a little while and found out that writing it would be really really fun~ This was supposed to be based on the movie "Princess Diaries" with Anne Hathaway, but I thought long and hard about the movie and found that it didn't quite fit the pairing I had in mind. And, _viola_! This was created! Requests for upcoming chapters is highly encouraged, so are the occasional reviews and PMs. I hope you guys like this concept and have a great upcoming Christmas~~ (UwU)

Huomenta!


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